


Rivalry

by ecrituredudesir



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Body Worship, Dirty Talk, Hair-pulling, M/M, Non-Penetrative Sex, Rough Body Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-19
Updated: 2017-11-19
Packaged: 2019-02-04 10:27:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,555
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12769089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ecrituredudesir/pseuds/ecrituredudesir
Summary: Chris loses gold again, but that only gives him motivation to punish Viktor for it. We’re going to say Viktor still has his ponytail and Chris is a little younger, but 20 for this.





	Rivalry

The taste of defeat is bitter on Chris’s tongue still, but watching Viktor’s winning performance had his blood boiling with a feeling far from anger. Viktor can see it in Chris’s eyes on the sidelines, and with a casual, smooth smile, those gorgeous eyes offer the silver medal winner a little wink as he wraps up his routine. Viktor knows that the little taunt is a mistake when Chris’s eyes darken in return, and he can see his knuckles whiten with their grip on the rink’s border. 

Congratulations are in order, the normal pomp and circumstance of a new gold medal under his belt, but by the time they make it back to the locker room from the winner’s podium, Chris has got him by the waist and is leading him to the spot they’d found two years prior that was out of sight and out of mind of the other competitors and coaches alike. The locker rooms are large but they disappear before the flood of their backstage supporters can find them, in one of the older shower stalls that weren’t normally used in actual competition now. The body language between them changes abruptly, and Chris gives a light shove that has Viktor’s hands spread against the wall and the younger skater sliding right up behind him. 

One hand wraps around the thin ponytail of silver hair, and the gold medalist gasps when he feels Chris pull enough to tilt his head to the side, but not enough to cause real damage. Viktor doesn’t get a word in edgewise, and for a moment he’s somewhat concerned he had actually managed to make the other angry with his coy tease with his casual victory. The thought is chased away with Chris undoes his performance outfit from behind, a zipper straight down to the small of his back as kisses siege the back of Viktor’s neck. 

Chris is taller now, he recognizes, with some lingering disappointment. He’d gotten much too fond of teasing the other for being just a bit shorter, though Chris easily reaches the spots of his neck that the blonde knows he’s sensitive at. His costume is hanging low now on his arms, braced against the wall still but not high enough to discourage the descent of the thin fabric from crawling down over his skin. His arms are the last thing holding it on him entirely at this point, as the back has been unzipped to the small of his back and Chris’s hand has already snaked under the fabric around to his front. As aware that Viktor is of his own, swift arousal at the somewhat rougher handling, Chris is slow. Deliberate. 

“You’re still so warm,” Chris observed in a hum against his skin, dragging his nails around the curve of Viktor’s naval. Viktor can feel the outline of Chris’s cock press to the soft curve of his almost-exposed ass. “Did you get this worked up because you knew I was watching? Beautiful as always.” Though defeat was embarrassing, Chris could never lie to himself and say that Viktor wasn’t absolutely enrapturing on the ice. It just meant that once again, he’d have to work harder next year. 

Viktor wants to remind the other that such teasing was cruel. That he should be rewarded his victory, but he knows that requests that Chris touch him more intimately would only be met with more teasing when Chris was like this. Instead, a soft gasp slips free when Chris gives another little tug of his ponytail to get access to the little curve of skin just below his jaw and ear, teeth brushing against the spot in a way that makes his erection throb where it’s still held back by the tighter material of his outfit. They can’t steal spots of time like this for long, not when Yakov would be looking for him and Chris’s coach searching him out in return. Chris can only tease for so long, and his kisses wander to press with a low arch down to the curve of Viktor’s spine, between his shoulder blades. It takes the pressure of Chris’s hips off of his bottom, but with the sound of another zipper, he knows the other had shrugged his own outfit down or off. He can’t see how much. 

Viktor never failed to enjoy these moments. Maybe it was the adrenaline high of another victory, or the subtle guilt of beating his rinkmate (yet again) that has him thrilled to let Chris work out his teasing frustration on him. There was no shortage of attraction between them, but something about the way the Swiss man truly worked him over, every touch deliberate and every work rolling from his lips in a soft accent of their shared language that had the unbeatable Nikiforov melting like candlewax in the blonde’s hands. 

“You’re hard already. Is it because I’m the only one who gets to see you like this after you show off for everyone?” Chris teases again, this time reaching around Viktor again but only to palm him through the actual fabric of his suit. Never enough direct contact for Viktor, but he feels the hand that had been pulling his hair reach down to pull the elaborate costume further down Viktor’s thighs. His underwear is pushed with it, so Chris can press his cock flush to skin, grinding in the subtle dip of the valley between Viktor’s ass cheeks. “If we had more time, I would fill you with the same inspiration you give me,” Chris teases, an obvious euphemism as he never ceases the slow stroking over the tent of fabric at Viktor’s front. 

Viktor rarely ever interrupts him at times like this, enjoying the subtly fantasy the Chris lets him play into. His ponytail is loose from the tugs, lower as strands of spun silver fall around Viktor’s cheeks in a frame that betrays the mess they were getting themselves into a shady, locker room shower stall. That risk alone had Viktor’s heart beating as he feels Christophe suck a slow, dedicated red mark into the back of his shoulder. 

“You may win gold out there, Viktor,” He murmurs pleasantly, nothing short of affectionate as he sets a slow pace of a grind of rocking against the other, simulating a pattern of low, noninvasive thrusts. “But no one can make you cum like I can. No one can paint your pretty skin as well, can they?” Now he’s a bit cruel about his teasing, though he rewards Viktor’s patience by finally reaching under the fabric again to start stroking him directly, even though he knew that Viktor would make a mess out of his winning outfit. The words are truly starting to have an effect on him now, small flashes of memory flitting from their last shared competitions in mind. They had had more time then, hotel visits and bathroom condoms. Time, and lube. Now, they had nothing but the sound of searching coaches in the distance, and Chris’s voice rougher with how quiet he had to be to drag the other to completion. Much more quickly than Viktor anticipates, he finds himself rocking into those long fingers and rocking back against the hips behind him. Any other time, Viktor Nikiforov’s good-natured pride would insist he’d never do such a thing. With Christophe Giacometti’s hands wrapped around him and working him to completion, he’d do anything to feel more. A time and place for everything, though.

“Cum for me,” Chris beckons gently, his free hand finally slipping in the costume as well, fingers tracing up the other skater’s ribs in almost reverence. Viktor was a work of art, one that Chris would never get tired of worshiping as his fingers found the other’s closest nipple, brushing his fingertips across it before catching it between two and giving it a playful roll. The stimulation has Viktor tipped over the edge immediately, despite any wish to hold it off for just a few minutes more. 

It’s the way that Viktor arches under him, the way that he feels the other inhale sharply but bite his lower lip to stay quiet that has Chris whispering his name and spilling against his back. It’s a few, haggard thrusts of skin against skin that leaves him twitching there, emptying in two, then three little spurts of semi-clear fluid across pale skin that Chris never gets tired of seeing when they don’t have the time to go further than panting, baited breaths and hands that never stopped teasing. 

”Chris-” Viktor rasps, finally pleading aloud. It’s for good reason, in the middle of his own orgasm, he hadn’t stopped that slow stroking pace, and he was close to overstimulating his gold medal winner. Chris places a sheepish kiss of an apology to the back of the other’s neck, ignoring the mussed ponytail trying to dangle in his way, and withdraws his hands. 

Spent, but not at the freedom to enjoy their afterglow for long, the two untangle themselves fully with haggard breaths and a passing kiss, but Yakov’s getting louder and when he’s louder that means he’s closer. Viktor has to zip up quickly to go change, but a glance backwards made him fairly sure he saw Chris licking his fingers just to tease him as he tumbles from the small, tiled stall.

**Author's Note:**

> This was a request fic for a friend. You can find more of my writing and commission info at http://ecrituredudesir.tumblr.com/


End file.
